


Babe I've Got You Bad

by aazeris



Series: Adventures of LoneWolf and ladykiller69 [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aazeris/pseuds/aazeris
Summary: One day, Sylvain realizes he wants to marry Felix.  The hard part is working up the courage to ask.A sequel to LoneWolf is Live!
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Adventures of LoneWolf and ladykiller69 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804999
Comments: 20
Kudos: 111





	Babe I've Got You Bad

Felix is making breakfast - pancakes, sausage, eggs, and fresh fruit. It’s an extravagant breakfast for just the two of them, but it’s an extravagant day: lazy morning sex, breakfast, then a day trip to the lake where Sylvain has planned a picnic and other romantic gestures. Felix hates it, or at least he pretends to. Sylvain knows Felix would never go along with it if he _really_ hated it, so he keeps planning these outings. 

It’s two weeks after their two year anniversary, and Sylvain feels like that is a momentous occasion anyway. Sylvain has never been in a relationship longer than a quarter of that time, and he knows Felix is close to the same. They moved in together a year and a half ago and while life hasn’t been straight out of a Disney movie, it has been nice. Times like these are especially good, when Felix cooks breakfast or dinner, and Sylvain is sitting at the breakfast bar on one of the uncomfortable stools, and the cat is wandering across the island like she owns the place. It’s nice. Domestic. 

Felix is wearing Sylvain’s apron, the one that says “This guy rubs his own meat.” It was a joke gift from Claude that Felix legitimately does hate but wears anyway because he refuses to get an apron of his own. His hair is tied in a messy bun; the escaping strands of hair do nothing but accentuate the smooth line of his neck. He is still in pajamas: a black sweatshirt to combat the morning chill and red and black checkered pajama pants. Despite his best efforts he still looks rumpled in the best kind of way, the way that reminds Sylvain of Felix’s legs around him, his name on Felix’s lips, their stomachs sticky between them. 

But that’s not all Sylvain is thinking about, because contrary to popular belief, sex isn’t _all_ he thinks about. He is thinking about how much he loves mornings like these. He is thinking about the future.

He is thinking, all of a sudden and without warning, _I want to marry that man_.

This thought takes him completely by surprise, enough so that he drops the coffee mug he had been bringing to his lips. Coffee spills across the island, dripping down over the side and splashing across Sylvain’s pajama pants. Felix jumps at the noise of porcelain hitting quartz and spins around.

“What the fuck?” is his first response, followed by a concerned, but more sedate and considerate, “Are you okay?”

Sylvain stares at Felix with wide eyes. He is completely ignoring the coffee spill, instead lost in the endless amber of Felix’s eyes, and the twist of his lips, and the raised eyebrow. Swallowing hard, he evaluates his feelings again. Does he really want to marry Felix?

The answer is an immediate, enthusiastic, _hell yes I do_.

“Haha. Oops,” he says weakly. Felix looks even more incredulously at him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Felix demands. Breakfast is forgotten on the stove; the coffee is forgotten on the counter. Felix, terrible with emotions as he is, always did know when Sylvain was having Deep Thoughts he needed to talk about. He crosses his arms, spatula in hand, and waits.

Sylvain would drop to one knee there, the spilled coffee seeping into his pajamas, if he thought for one second that Felix would say yes. However, he does _not_ know, or even really believe, that Felix will say yes. For all he knows that Felix loves him, in his way, the idea of Felix tying himself down like that is just… not really believable.

Then again, the thought of consummate bachelor Sylvain tying _himself_ down in holy matrimony is equally laughable, so maybe it’s not so far out of the realm of possibility.

He really needs to call his therapist.

The silence stretches on too long. Felix is starting to look genuinely worried now, dropping his arms to look more approachable, eyebrows coming together in an inverted V. “Sylvain…?”

Sylvain jumps to his feet, the stool stuttering on the floor behind him, and comes around the island to stand in front of Felix. He very slowly, keeping their gazes locked, pulls the spatula from Felix’s hand and sets it on the counter. Felix has his mouth open, undoubtedly to ask what the fuck, _again_ , but Sylvain cups his jaw with both hands and leans in to kiss him, slow and deep. 

Felix melts into it, as he has a tendency to do. Sylvain tries his best to convey the depth of his emotion (because his emotions are deep and they are running rampant right about now) without letting the kiss get too heated. Felix seems to recognize the sentiment, as he places his hands on Sylvain’s hips and does not let them wander - which is pretty unusual for him, really. The most Sylvain allows himself is to let his hands move from Felix’s jaw to his neck, then to his shoulders. When they part, Sylvain presses his forehead to Felix’s and closes his eyes.

“I really love you, you know that?” Sylvain asks softly.

“I know,” Felix responds, breathless. “Of course I know.”

Sylvain smiles, pulling back. “Good.” Unable to resist, he leans in and drops a quick peck on Felix’s forehead. He then starts to mop up the coffee mess on the counter and floor. Felix reclaims his spatula and continues with breakfast.

It’s nice. It’s domestic. And Sylvain is calling his therapist directly after it’s over.

\---

Felix is in the shower and Sylvain knows that when he needs to wash his hair, he takes ages. This is the perfect opportunity for him to lock himself in “his room,” which is just a fancy name for an office he rarely spends time in, and make a call. The phone rings twice before it is answered.

“Sylvain,” Byleth - technically Dr. Byleth, but he has requested that Sylvain drop the doctor - says warmly, despite the fact it is around 10:00 in the morning on a weekend. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m having a breakdown because I just realized I want to marry Felix and I don’t know what to do,” Sylvain says in a rush. His mind is racing by now, and he paces back and forth in tight circles. He recognizes a panic attack when he sees one, and the way his jaw is locking up is a sure sign that one is on the way.

Byleth, apparently, can sense this also. “I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”

Sylvain runs a hand through his hair, closes his eyes, and stops pacing. “Yeah,” he says, almost gasping. “Yeah.”

They walk through the breathing exercises Byleth always recommends when Sylvain is skidding full force into a panic attack. At the end of them, Sylvain is feeling moderately more calm, the worst of it having passed and leaving him with a dull sense of dread. 

“Good,” Byleth says, his voice soothing as it always is. “You’re doing well, Sylvain. Now, why are you so upset about this revelation? Surely marrying Felix would be a good thing?”

“It would be the best thing,” Sylvain says immediately, and it’s true. But… “I don’t think he would say yes.”

“Why do you say that?”

A hundred reasons blossom in his chest, but they all really boil down to one thing, like they always do, don’t they?

“I’m not loveable. Not for the long term.”

“Has Felix given you reason to believe he agrees with you?”

“...No.”

“Listen to me, Sylvain,” Byleth says gently. “You are a person of worth. You have a generous, loving heart that is more than deserving of all the love it receives. I can’t make you believe it, but I want you to ask yourself, first thought, second thought.”

First thought, second thought. The premise has helped Sylvain on more than one occasion. The first thought you have about something, Byleth says, is automatic and can’t be controlled. But the second thought, the rational, level headed, most likely more correct thought is the one you can control. 

“My first thought is that I am unlovable,” Sylvain says, his voice miserable as if the thought deeply wounds him - which it does. He takes a deep breath. “The second thought is that Felix has always given me love and never acted like I don’t deserve it. I have friends who love me and show it in a bunch of different ways. I am probably more lovable than I think.”

“Good,” Byleth says, and Sylvain can hear the smile in his voice. “Very good. Now, about the marriage. I want you to spend a few days thinking about it. Try to ask yourself if you really feel it’s a good idea, and keep your negative, self-hating thoughts out of it. If at the end of the week you still feel like it’s something you should pursue, well, you have my whole-hearted support.”

A week. A week of self reflection and reflection on their relationship and reflection in general, really. Sylvain can do that. “I can do that,” he says. 

“Good,” Byleth says again. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to get back to the paper I’m writing.”

Sylvain smiles. “Sure thing, doc. Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime you need it, Sylvain.”

\---

So, Sylvain has an idea. A series of ideas, really. Yes, he is going to do some self-reflection to make sure that asking Felix to marry him is a step he really, really wants to take (he suspects he knows the answer to that already, though). But at the same time, he wants to feel Felix out about the prospect of marriage. He could come out and ask him but it feels too obvious. The only other solution, _obviously_ , is video games.

After all, it was video games that brought them together in the first place. What could go wrong?

\---

Felix and Sylvain are playing co-op Left for Dead 2. Despite having his own office in which he could very comfortably set up shop, Sylvain prefers to camp out on the couch in Felix’s office when they play games, and occasionally, when Felix streams. His company during streams has gotten steadily more frequent as time has gone on. At first, Felix seemed discombobulated by it. Sylvain wasn’t the best, most well-behaved boyfriend in the beginning. He liked to cause problems, riling Felix up in chat, touching the back of Felix’s neck when he was particularly into a specific game, blowing Felix kisses when he invariably spun around in his chair to give Sylvain the most potent look of imminent death he could muster.

It took Felix actually sitting Sylvain down and having a serious conversation with him - highly unusual in itself - for Sylvain to realize that this was making him a pretty shitty boyfriend, actually. This is Felix’s job, and Sylvain was essentially sabotaging it in numerous little ways. Sylvain got his shit together after that. Now, he still riles up chat, but like he used to, when it was innocent and playful without any intent behind it. More often he has the stream up but browses Reddit or shitposts on Twitter or, occasionally, plays his own games. Eventually Felix softened, got more comfortable, and Sylvain felt better. This set-up works better for everyone involved.

The gaming thing though? Sylvain (probably) won’t admit it out loud, and he knows Felix never would, but there’s something about sitting in the same room bonding over something as silly as L4D2 that just warms the heart.

So far, Sylvain has been keeping his cool. It is day two of his self-reflection time, and despite the often very uncomfortable thoughts he has been wrestling with, it is going well. He is still convinced he wants to marry Felix. He is slowly coming around to the idea that maybe Felix would, some day, be willing to marry him. But he’s still not sure if Felix is the marrying type.

They get to the gazebo in The Riverbank, and there is a Witch standing there, weeping. She is dressed in the tattered remains of a wedding dress and veil, left at the altar and still crying for her lost love, Sylvain supposes. He bites his bottom lip and stares at Felix’s back.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” he says, keeping his voice casual.

“What is?” Felix is only half listening, focusing on the tent with the sound system that will kick this event off. 

“Well she obviously was about to marry somebody, and couldn’t for whatever reason. Now she’s just doomed to wander around wishing she could have gotten married.” Sylvain pauses, mustering his courage. “What do you think about that?”

Felix spins around in his chair, looking utterly baffled. “Why do I care how a zombie in Left for Dead - a video game - feels?”

“I mean, the whole marriage being lost thing is kind of sad, is all I’m saying. It’s sad to think of losing the love of your life. I would hope _our_ wedding wouldn’t end like that.” It comes out without him even intending it, and Sylvain feels a brief flash of panic. 

Furrowing his eyebrows, Felix looks, really looks, at Sylvain. He seems to be pondering something, but what he says is a surprisingly soft, “Sylvain, are you okay?”

Sylvain blinks. This isn’t how he expected this to go. Now he’s gone and _worried_ Felix, and he’s no closer to knowing how the man feels about marriage than he was ten minutes ago.

“Of course, love,” Sylvain assures him, offering an easy smile that he doesn’t feel. “I’m just feeling sentimental, I guess.”

“Right,” Felix says, clearly not believing him. He turns back to his desk and they resume the game.

Sylvain forces his jaw to relax. This is going to be harder than he thought.

\---

Two days later, Sylvain has another idea. It’s an old standby, really, and he thinks fondly back to Felix making an absolute mess of asking Sylvain to move in with him. The adventures of Hugo and Jose Idiot won’t soon be forgotten, and if Sylvain heckles Felix mercilessly about it every once in a while, well, it can’t be helped.

It’s entirely possible that this time Felix will be the one doing the heckling, but sometimes you just have to take a chance, Sylvain tells himself as he settles against the plush cushions of the couch in Felix’s office and wakes up his laptop. Felix is puttering around getting things ready for the stream, not giving Sylvain much attention. That’s okay. Sylvain kind of wants to keep this a surprise, anyway.

He turns the volume on his laptop all the way down and boots up the Sims. He has a dozen sims saved already; the Sims is one of those games he returns to whenever life feels just this side of Too Much and he needs to decompress. There’s something really soothing about building houses, in his opinion. He has remodeled the entire world he usually plays on, and the last time he played, he downloaded a mod of a new world and spent about six hours - during Felix’s stream - building houses in it. It makes Felix laugh fondly - not _at_ him, exactly, but in his general direction (it is the _fondly_ that makes this bearable to Sylvain’s ego).

“Hey.” Felix’s gruff voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he looks up from his screen. Felix is standing close, very close, and when did he get so close? Sylvain tilts the screen of his laptop down so Felix can’t see what he’s up to, which makes Felix raise a suspicious eyebrow. “What are you doing?” he asks in favor of whatever it was he originally was going to say.

“Looking at porn,” Sylvain answers without hesitation.

Felix laughs, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot,” he says, voice soft. Leaning down, he presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to Sylvain’s forehead. “Don’t get yourself in trouble while I’m streaming.” He flicks the spot he kissed, lips quirked up at the corners, and leaves Sylvain in order to settle at his desk.

Sylvain’s chest feels so warm. He wonders if it will always be this way with Felix. He desperately hopes so.

 _I want to marry that man_ , he thinks, again, for at least the hundredth time. _I want a life full of these moments._

It takes Sylvain an inordinately long amount of time to finish creating his sims - Hugo and Jose Idiot, for old time’s sake. After a few moments of thought, he also adds their cat. Unlike Felix’s versions, his are as true to life as one can make cartoonish characters. With Felix’s voice soothing him in the background, he builds a replica of their beautiful apartment - honestly, Sylvain loves this apartment and would be happy to stay here for the rest of their hopefully conjoined lives - and moves Hugo and Jose Idiot in. 

This takes about three hours, and around the time he is finishing up, Felix takes a break. Sylvain watches as Felix stands up and stretches his arms above his head, shoulders popping in a very satisfying way, his t-shirt riding up to expose a little stretch of his taut belly that Sylvain finds himself suddenly really wanting to lick. He looks away quickly, but one look at Felix’s face makes it clear that Felix knows what he’s thinking.

“Pervert,” Felix says before he leaves the room. His voice drifts down the hall as he walks away. “Your porn not doing it for you?”

He knows Sylvain will follow, because doesn’t he always?

Carefully bringing up another screen (not Porn Hub, despite the laugh it would get) to hide the Sims, Sylvain sets his laptop to the side and trails down the hall after Felix. “You know nothing can compare to you, baby,” he says in his douchiest voice. 

Felix chuckles from the kitchen, where he is bent down into the fridge to get a drink. Sylvain rests both arms on the bar and quietly ogles Felix’s ass.

“Stop looking at my ass.”

Busted. “I wasn’t,” Sylvan lies, and he knows Felix isn’t buying it when he spins around and gives Sylvain A Look. “Okay, maybe I was. But only a little bit.”

Felix comes around to Sylvain’s side of the bar and sets his drink on the counter. Stepping so they are only a couple of inches apart, he slides both arms around Sylvain’s waist and pulls him close. Sylvain can feel Felix’s hands clasp at the small of his back, widening his eyes when Felix’s forehead drops to his shoulder. But even his surprise doesn’t stop him from immediately wrapping Felix in the warmest of hugs. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Sylvain asks, because as much as he is enjoying himself, it really isn’t like Felix to initiate cuddle time. Especially not when he has three thousand viewers waiting for him to return and play killer on Dead by Daylight. 

“I’m fine,” Felix says into his shoulder. “I just wanted a hug. Is that so bad?”

“Never.” Sylvain squeezes for good measure. “You know I’m a slut for hugs.”

Felix lets go and moves back enough to look Sylvain in the face while remaining in the circle of his arms. “You’re a slut for a lot of things,” he replies. Sylvain doesn’t have a chance to protest - or agree, if he’s being honest - before Felix leans up and presses a kiss to his lips. He pulls back before Sylvain can get into it. “Everyone’s waiting. C’mon.”

Sylvain spends the rest of Felix’s stream getting his characters’ relationship and money up. He doesn’t use cheats except when he’s building, and he wants them to have enough money for an absolutely lavish wedding. In fact, that gives him an idea; he saves and goes back to editing the town. In the big central park, he starts working on the most beautiful wedding venue he can think of. 

He’s just finishing up when Felix wishes his viewers a good night, cuts the stream, and spins his chair around. “You’ve been really quiet tonight,” Felix says. “You must be up to something.”

 _If only you knew_ , Sylvain thinks. “I guess I am. Want to see?” 

Felix moves over to settle on the couch next to Sylvain, pressed thigh to thigh so he can look at the screen. Sylvain zooms in on the apartment, giving Felix a little tour. Hugo is hard at work on the computer, Sylvain having given him the hacker profession. Jose Idiot strolls in, coming home from his work as a chef, while Sylvain is giving the tour. Jose Idiot immediately goes over to Hugo and waits patiently with a “Kiss Hugo” action in the queue.

“This is going a lot better than mine did,” Felix comments idly. “Did you cheat?”

“No! They’re in love. It’s _fate_ , Fe.”

“Mm.”

“Anyway, you’re here just in time.” Sylvain cancels Hugo’s work. Jose Idiot and Hugo immediately fall into showering affection on each other with a series of actions that, to his credit, Sylvain has nothing to do with. He is quietly delighted though, doubly so when he glances over and sees the unmistakably fond look in Felix’s eyes while he watches them.

They are quiet for a couple of minutes, watching, before Felix seems to register what Sylvain said. “In time for what?”

“Oh ho, so you _are_ interested,” Sylvain grins. “Buckle up, sweetheart.”

“You’re going to make them fuck in the shower, aren’t you,” Felix says, voice flat. It is not a question.

Sylvain bursts into laughter. “No, but that might be a good idea for after.” He looks over and waggles his eyebrows. Felix just shakes his head.

Deciding he has talked it up enough, Sylvain goes ahead and prompts the engagement. Jose Idiot is the one who proposes, of course, but Hugo is, naturally, entirely on board. They sweep into a grand kiss, then Sylvain starts planning the wedding. Felix is quiet, so Sylvain is quiet too, just letting it all play out. 

They have the wedding in the park. It is attended by all their friends. Sylvain screenshots the hell out of it for posterity. And through it all, Felix remains silent by his side. 

When the wedding is over, Sylvain lets the sims idle. He looks over at Felix, who seems to be lost in thought. His lips are drawn into a thin line, but this doesn’t give any clue as to the inner workings of his mind, because even when he’s having happy thoughts, Felix has an unfortunate case of resting bitch face.

Sylvain jostles Felix with his shoulder just a little bit. Felix blinks, coming back to himself, and scratches his cheek. The look on his face is indescribable, and Sylvain’s heart drops at the fact that, once again, he is no fucking closer to knowing what Felix is thinking about marriage - more specifically, marrying him - than he was at the beginning of this endeavor. 

“You’re cute. Ridiculous, but cute,” Felix eventually says. He pats Sylvain’s forearm before he gets up and walks away without another word.

_Damn it all._

\---

Okay. L4D2 was a bust. The Sims was a bust. Sylvain has one final card to play, in the form of Final Fantasy XIV.

He and Felix have been playing for about two months. Felix wanted something to do that wasn’t related to streaming or the horror genre, and Sylvain has been a Final Fantasy fan for years. It was the perfect endeavor. They play casually, when they both have time, enjoying the story and each other’s company and just… being.

Sylvain made a male mi’qote, because he couldn’t resist the allure of a cat boy, and he’s playing a dragoon because he loves lances and tanking the floor. Felix, predictably if you ask Sylvain, made a male au ra, and he plays dark knight because he loves swords and having sharp edges. It makes Sylvain laugh a little when he thinks about it, how predictable they are and how they always fall into the same patterns. For example, while Felix likes to parade around in the most edgelord armor he can find, Sylvain likes to wear a leopard-print bikini. It just makes sense.

Felix is making the bed when Sylvain accosts him. “Felix!” he shouts, spreading his arms wide in a typical hug request. Felix rolls his eyes, but obediently drops the pillow he’s putting a pillowcase on and walks over to be enfolded in Sylvain’s arms. “I want a fluffy chocobo,” he says once Felix is cuddled up against him.

“You have a chocobo,” Felix points out.

“Yeah, but it’s not a _fluffy_ one.”

“What are you talking about?” Felix lifts his head, looking confused, peering at Sylvain as if he’s trying to open a particularly challenging puzzle box.

Here goes nothing. “The wedding chocobos are big and fluffy and have feathers on their heads. I _need_ one, Felix. I will _die_ without one. So, obviously Stud Muffin and Lone Wolf should get married. Don’t you think?”

“You want to waste money on something silly like that?” Felix is disbelieving, stepping back from Sylvain and crossing his arms over his chest.

“We can both ride it!”

“We can both ride a lot of mounts that don’t require marriage.”

Sylvain’s enthusiasm fades and his face falls. “You don’t want Stud Muffin and Lone Wolf to get married? I kind of thought they were destined for each other.”

“Desti--Okay, be real with me. You’ve been obsessing over marriages for over a week and you’re acting weird. What’s actually going on?” There is a little furrow between Felix’s eyebrows, and Sylvain hates that he’s the one that put it there. 

It’s not the right time, he thinks with a manic frenzy. There’s no romantic music playing or candles lit or dim lighting or _anything_. How can he possibly ask Felix to marry him when the ring is in another room, even? Would it break the mood if he went to go get it now? Should he ask and then go get it? He is spiralling hard, dangerously close to hysterical territory, black crowding in at the sides of his vision, and Felix notices, because of course Felix notices.

“Hey.” Felix presses both hands to Sylvain’s cheeks and turns his head so their eyes can meet. “Look at me and breathe for a minute.” He goes quiet and regulates his breaths, waiting for Sylvain to follow suit - which he does. Gradually, the black fades and he feels moderately more calm.

Fucking romantic, is what this is. Past Sylvain, who left broken hearts in a road a mile long behind him, would be laughing hysterically if he could see current Sylvain.

Felix’s voice is quiet. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I want to marry you,” Sylvain blurts. “Like, for real.” So fucking romantic. What a disaster.

There is absolute silence in the room for a good fifteen seconds. “Is this what you’ve been leading up to this whole time?” Felix finally asks, startled into laughter. “Saints, Sylvain.”

This is not exactly the response Sylvain was hoping for.

“Look, I don’t want to hear it from someone who couldn’t even come out and ask me to move in with him,” Sylvain says, poking Felix in the chest with a single finger. 

“Is that the hill you want to die on after spending a full week trying to convince me to marry you in increasingly creative and desperate ways?” Felix is full on grinning now, eyes sparkling with mirth. A little of the knot of dread in Sylvain’s stomach loosens. “ _I want a **fluffy** chocobo, Fe! _he says. I should have realized sooner. You’re no good at hiding a secret when I’m paying more attention.”

“Hey, I have kept plenty of secrets.” Felix scowls. “I mean, in my day!” Sylvain hurries to add. “Not from you. I don’t mean from you!” Sylvain waves his hands between them, then maneuvers them both so they are sitting facing each other on the bed. For a few moments he just lets himself look. He takes in the sharp cheekbones, the silky raven hair. He takes in the amber eyes that say more than his mouth ever will. And said mouth, one corner of his lips still quirked up in amusement, that can kill with both love and vitriol depending on Felix’s mood. 

Suddenly, Sylvain isn’t panicking anymore. Suddenly, he remembers the point of all this: he wants to marry Felix. Really, it’s as simple as that.

“Felix,” Sylvain starts, taking both of Felix’s hands in his and holding them in his lap. “I want to spend my life with you. I want to wake up next to you and go to sleep next to you, every single day. I want to watch you make breakfast. I want to harass you in chat when you’re streaming. I want to play video games with you and wander around town with you and sneak you new recipes Hanneman’s trying at work. It’s always been you, Fe. It always will be.”

Felix’s eyes get progressively wider the longer Sylvain talks, his cheeks blossoming with the beginnings of a blush. When Sylvain is done speaking, he doesn’t say anything. In fact, he keeps on not saying anything until Sylvain starts to work himself up back into a panic, but then…

“Of course I’ll marry you, idiot. As if I want to be with anyone else.” Felix looks off to the side. “You know I’m not good with lovey words. So… all that stuff you said. Me too.”

It’s so classically Felix that Sylvain can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes him. Felix looks offended for approximately five seconds before they both dissolve into laughter. Sylvain pulls Felix into a tight hug, laughing into his hair, eyes squeezed close, almost unable to believe that this is really happening. The bubble of happiness in his chest squeezes his heart in an iron grasp.

“I love you, Felix. Always have, always will.”

Felix nuzzles his nose against the side of Sylvain’s neck. “Yeah. Me too.”

\---

Sylvain is obsessed with Instagram, but for obvious reasons Felix will not allow Sylvain to give in to his urges and post sixteen thousand pictures of the two of them together. The only allowance he has made is for one picture in which Sylvain is holding an open book - Pride and Prejudice, if you’re curious - in front of Felix’s face, hiding it from the tip of his nose down. Sylvain has the widest of grins as he winks at Felix, and although Felix’s eyebrows are drawn into a scowl as he looks over at Sylvain from behind the safety of the book, Sylvain can remember the softest of exasperated smiles on his lips that day.

Today, though, Felix has allowed one more picture of himself to make its way to the internet. It is simple but beautiful, a close-up of two hands resting on top of each other, fingers slightly intertwined, a gold and silver band respectively around each ring finger. 

The caption is a simple green heart and a, “Love you, F.”

**Author's Note:**

> I DID IT!!!!
> 
> This fic has been literal months in the making, and I thank my twitter followers for their patience while I rambled about, went silent about, and cried about it. I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> This is (probably) not the end of the LiL series, but we'll see.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and thank you for all of your support for this AU! It has been a blast and I treasure everyone who reads, comments, and leaves kudos. You are truly all miraculous people.
> 
> Many, many thanks to the lovely [Elasmosaurus](https://twitter.com/Elasmosaurus11) for betaing!
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/snarkyperson) if you're so inclined.


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